


Comfort Returned

by Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler



Series: Inconveniently Emotional Insomniacs [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Kira ruined the moment, Mentions of soldiers being bad soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6486349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler/pseuds/Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always better to talk about horrifying secrets in a bright and cheerful forest. Always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort Returned

They were hiking back to the ship though an iridescent rainforest when he decided to tell her. At first, he didn't want to tell her. The way it burned in his stomach gave it the nature of a secret best discussed in dark, dingy alleys. But with Rona’s nature, it would be easier to say out here, where the air was bright and the plants brighter.

“Ronadia.” She stopped walking, and turned to look at him. He was both surprised and melancholic as he thought that saying her first name was such as calendar moment that it would get her attention.

“Finally tracked down my old squadmates,” he said casually, as if it hadn’t weighed him down for the past few days. Rona looked hopeful, and Fideltin hid a sad smile at her natural optimism. “Wishing I hadn't. General Garza recruited them into the Special Forces Black Ops program, but now they're in a detention facility on Berrun, convicted of war crimes.”

Ronadia frowned, and moved to stand by his side. “War crimes is a serious charge. How did your old squad go from being heroes to convicted criminals?”

Fideltin didn't meet her eyes. He felt second-hand shame for these soldiers, soldiers so similar to himself. “Black ops doesn't make heroes. It trains killers. If the right targets die, nobody complains. They renamed my old squad "The Surgeons". Tasked them with destabilizing the Empire's commander structure by removing its best leaders. But the Surgeons didn't just target Imperial commanders, they went after the officers' families.”

"They wanted to send the enemy a message,” murmured Rona coldly. Her face was stony, equal parts the disapproving Jedi and the understanding tactical commander. Sometimes he approved that she was both. Now wasn't really the time.

"Killing children and non-combatants is not acceptable,” Fideltin snarled, angry at… He didn't know who at this point. His former squad, Garza, himself, who knew. “Good soldiers know what acceptable targets are. This wouldn't have happened on my watch. The detention center's warden says my old squad mates are serving life sentences. They're young, younger than me. That's a lot of ears to spend in cages. The next time I get nostalgic and curious, Ronadia, just give me a planet to invade instead.”

Rona gripped one of his hands in both of hers, and Fideltin could feel the warmth of her hands through his gauntlet. Or perhaps he was imagining it. She didn't say anything, just held his hand. Fideltin just stared at the festively-coloured flora, feeling slightly numb now that it was out in the open. The stillness around him began to feel heady, and he began to pace, his hand now bereft of Rona’s warmth. He had to _focus_ if he wanted to say what he was trying to say. “My old squad-mates were good soldiers when I knew them. Still can't believe how they ended up. If I hadn't been reassigned after that first mission… I might have been one of them.”

Rona made a noise of disgust, which gave him pause. She stood in front of Fideltin and carefully held his face her hands, looking him straight in his stormy grey eyes. “ _You_ wouldn't have allowed innocent blood on your hands. _You_ are a good soldier. You aren't like them, Fideltin.”

Fideltin’s face grew uncontrollably warm, and he shly broke eye contact with Rona. She grinned at his uncharacteristic shyness, and hugged him. Fideltin stiffened a little. This was...not all that uncomfortable, really. Rona’s hair tickled his lethorns, but it was… rather nice. She smelled like… well, like she usually did: something floral and slightly spicy, with the underlying scent of plasma emissions, most likely from her ‘sabers. Feminine, fierce, and dangerous. _Stars_ , he was in too deep. Fideltin didn’t even seemed to mind it anymore.

He wrapped his arms around Rona’s abdomen, and hugged her tightly to himself. He smiled again, widely. “No,” he murmured into her hair. “I'm not. It's a far greater honour to be assigned to you, Rona. You’re…” Fideltin trailed off. He didn’t seemed to have the right words. He never was very good at this sort of thing.

Rona laughed, a bit of a low chuckle in her throat. “That’s alright,” she murmured. “Words are overrated anyway.”

 _Damn_ , had he really said that aloud?

* * *

 Rona wasn’t quite sure her heart could take it anymore. She hadn’t been prepared for this conversation, and she was even less prepared for the topic at hand. She knew she felt definite attachment to Fideltin, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him during times like this: when his thick, stoic mask cracked slightly and something more shone through. A dry sense of humour, unceasing devotion, and a dorkishly adorable man.

A sharp chirping emanated from Rona’s hip, and she nearly growled with irritation. She stepped slightly out of Fideltin’s embrace, and answered the comm. unit tersely. “Master Zhang here.”

Kira sighed with relief. “Hey Rona. We were expecting you back two hours ago. T7 wanted to start a search party to look for you. Where have you two been?”

Rona’s cheeks flared hotly. “We, ah, ran into some...wildlife. Yeah, a whole herd of hostile feline-type creatures. We escaped unscathed, and we’ll be back soon. See you later, Kira!”

“Rona-”

She hung up, hanging the comm. unit on her belt again. She glanced at Fideltin, and at her feet, trying to diffuse the heat growing in her face. “So…”

“We should probably return to the ship,” Fideltin suggested, with palpable reluctance.

Rona shrugged, an impish smile lighting her features. “If we have to.” She held her hand out, inviting Fideltin to hold it again. He took it, smiling slightly.


End file.
